The Death of John Walters Daniels
by Novimundus
Summary: A story I'm just beginning to write. It's written backwards 'Memento' style, and documents the last days of a humane shadow runner.


It's been years since I've written anything. But I'm slowly getting back into having an outlet for my creativity. This chapter is heavily in complete, but I'd like to see who'd like to read what I have so far...Thanks for the reviews._  
_

_"Troubles will come and they will pass.  
Go find a woman and you'll find love,  
And don't forget son,  
There is someone up above. "_

**"Simple Man" by Lynard Skynard**

His eyelids began to droop down as his breathing became more and more shallow. The red organ beating inside him feebly struggled to continue pumping blood throughout his system, despite his grievous wounds.

"This is it. This is the end."

He choked slightly and felt a tightening in his throat as he struggled to cry. The pain wracked his body as a single teardrop slowly rolled down his cheek. The blood oozed out of his chest as the rain peltered his soft skin. The augmentations inside became harder and harder to control as less bio electricity fueled him.

"God. The end. 22 years. So close to the end."

No tears came as the shock slowly entered his brain. He quietly began to laugh manically, his chest heaving up and down, further intensifying the pain. Death was coming soon, and he knew that.

"Fuck it. I've made it. I'm home."

His eyes began to waver in focus as he looked up to take a good look at his killer. His laughter ceased as he began to realize. Familiar red hair and sparkling green eyes on a fair white and freckled skin greeted his dimming vision. His heart skipped a soft beat as full realization struck him. Somehow, he didn't feel that different. He opened his mouth and begins to utter something, then closed it, losing energy fast. He knew it didn't matter.

"I'm sorry John," she whispered, softly. The rain had drenched her hair. It clung to the silk steel black duster that she wore. Her self-crafted handgun was held unwillingly in her hand, the acidic rain already beginning to rust it. She stared at him in the eyes. There he was, her lover, dying in a secluded New York City alley way. His upper half propped up against the wall, two bullets inside of him that had splintered and shredded his vital organs. She could already see his augmented eye beginning to loser power. The neon green was becoming more and more dull.

He gazed at her as the words echoed in his ears.

"Sorry. What are you sorry for. You never had a choice in the first place."

He thought about how a mere week ago, they were celebrating their successful job that had given them both big pay offs. Her in her midnight black silk dress, and him, in his favorite tuxedo that was handmade in Italy. They were at Le Bon Chance on 15th, a prestigious French restaurant. He had wanted to propose to her that night. The thought of two shadow runners marrying and loving each other enticed him, and his love for her had never once waned during the time he knew her. Even now.

"I…" He coughed violently and slighted his head to the right. He spat out a wad of blood that was beginning to clog up his throat.

"I understand." He grinned a bloody grin at her, the same reminiscent grin he had given her when he was beaten at a tournament she had came to watch him compete in. It was always in him to never give up.

It struck her then and there that she might of made a mistake. No. She did make a mistake. Her chest tightened and her heart wrenched as it dawned on her what she had done. The gun clattered on the street as she dropped it and ran forward to her best friend and lover. Her sobs enveloped her bodily functions as she cradled his head in her arms. The eye had lost almost all power, signifying him getting closer and closer to the end.

"I'm so sorry John. I'm so sorry…" she cried. She leaned forward and nuzzled her forehead against his face, pressing her lips against his. Her tears fell from her natural eyes onto his face. He smiled as his vision became more and more dim.

"I know…" he whispered faintly. There wasn't hardly a breath left in him.

Her body became seized with her despair as she sobbed uncontrollably. She had killed the last bit of comfort in her life, the one thing that truly made her happy. She held him tighter as she cried. The rain began to pour harder as if the heavens had acknowledged her loss, and welcomed her love to their ranks.

"I love you." He said, flatly. His body went limp, and the single cybernetic eye hummed as it died down. His head fell backwards towards the earth as she hugged him as hard as she could, her tears coming down as if they could revive him. She felt his heart's beating grow fainter and fainter until it stopped completely. It resurged her pain as she cried harder and harder. But no amount of sadness could ever bring back that what she had lost. No amount of money could ever revive the fallen.

And most painful of all, as Jade lifted her head up towards the grey sky, screaming in her plight, praying that somehow he would come back to life, Jade knew that no amount of love, no amount of hope, could ever bring back John Walter Daniels.

**Five minutes prior.**

The window wouldn't open. Freedom was right outside. A complete view of a deserted alley that would lead to a main street where John could make his escape. He panted as he looked around for something to break the jammed lock without alerting his assailant's attention. The apartment room belonged to a toddler, as children's toys and a teddy bear were laying on the ground. An old, small desk sat in the corner by itself, lonely without a single ornament on top. Luckily, nobody was home. He whirled around the room fiercely looking for a hard object of any sort. He couldn't use the gun. It would have been too loud.

"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck."

Sweat rolled down his face as it slowly dawned on John Walter Daniels that he couldn't get out of the fire escape, and his assassin was closing in fast. He pressed himself against the wall next to the door, and peeked his head around to see if anyone had come to the entrance of the apartment. It wouldn't take long. A broken door hung out at the entrance, it would be easy to figure out he was inside. Luckily, there was nobody there.

"I don't have time for this."

John began moving towards when the window when the gunshots rang out from the other side of the wall. Fragments of dry wall and paint exploded into the room, dust permeating it's already musky air. The window shattered as a stray bullet hit the glass. John felt something slam against his back, knocking the wind out him. The armor had blocked the round. Losing his balance from the hit, he stumbled forward and rolled into the window, shattering it as his heavy body broke the frame completely. He tumbled in a mess onto the top deck of the fire escape. As he took a moment to recover, he glanced inside the room.

"Nobody there."

The fire escape craned and creaked under his weight. He grunted as he tried to get up. Somehow, he felt weaker. He began to descend down the fire escape ladder when he heard the soft crack of a wooden floorboard in the apartment above. John reached back and fumbled for his gun.

"Fuck. It's…It's not there!"

Panic and fear seized him as he quickly recollected what had happened. He looked down to the ground, 4 stories below. Sure enough, it had flown out of his holster when he had fallen out of the window. John struggled with his fears, wrestling them down to the ground and then snapping back into action. He slid down the fire escape onto the third story fire escape, and had just begun to descend the ladder when he heard the sound of a pistol clip clang against the metal above him. He looked up. There he was, his assassin, calmly reloading a handgun that strangely enough, looked all familiar.

"Get moving John, get moving!"

John quickly descended the ladder onto the second story and pressed himself up against the wall. He looked up, using his augmented eye to scan the area above him.

"No heat signatures, nothing…What the frag?"

He frantically looked around.

"Nothing….Jesus, how?"

John knew he didn't have time. He quickly decided he could make the fall from 2 stories without hurting himself, with his long standing history in wushu and his bio-cultured legs. Grabbing the rail, John realized it was raining, as the acidic substance sent him slight tingles. He had just leapt over the rail of the second story fire escape when everything went wrong.

The freefall ended with John landing on his feet and rolling forward towards his handgun. As his body began to tuck into a roll, gunshots rang out four stories above him. Something inside just stopped feeling, and John continued to move forward and successfully reached out and held onto his Colt Manhunter. The cold rain entranced his senses as he stood up from his roll and whirled around to face his attacker.

The puddle slashed as the heavy pistol dropped into it. John clutched his chest and the two gaping exit wounds that were merely fragments of what had been fired into him. He choked as he stumbled and looked up, trying to see where the rounds had come from. He saw his assailant step out of the window, the same window he had fallen through. He was waiting for John to get to the ground.

"I should of thought of that…"

John collapsed to the ground, blood forming a river from his chest. He crawled forward, one arm and leg at a time, towards the nearby wall. He didn't want to die face down, towards the dirt, the scum, the gutter, the places he had seen and had been raised in. He wanted to die looking up, with his back to the wall…forced into it. He wanted to die with honor. He struggled as he sat up, groaning as everything slowly became colder and colder, his clothes wetter and wetter. Turning to lean against the wall, he sprawled himself out.


End file.
